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Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Sydney-born Donna Gallagher decided at an early age that life needed be tackled head on.

Leaving home at 15 she supported herself through her teen years.

In her twenties she married a professional sportsman, her love of sport -- especially rugby league -- probably overriding her good sense.

The seven-year marriage was an adventure. There were the emotional ups and downs of having a husband with a public profile in a sometimes glamorous but always high-pressure field. There were always interesting characters to meet and observe and even the opportunity to live for a time in the UK.

Eventually Donna returned home a single woman, but she never lost her passion for watching sport, as well as the people in and around it.

Now happily re-married and with three sons Donna loves coffee mornings with her female friends, sorting through problems from the personal to the international. But she's on even footing with the keenest man when it comes to watching and talking rugby league.

Donna considers herself something of a black sheep in a family of high achievers. Her brother has a doctorate in mathematics and her sister is a well-known sports journalist.

An avid reader, especially of romance, Donna finally found she couldn't stop the characters residing in her imagination from spilling onto paper. Naturally rugby league is the backdrop to her League of Love Series, published through UK publisher Total-E-Bound, spicy tales of hunky heroes and spunky heroines overcoming adversity to eventually find true love.

Forty-two- year- old single mother Laura Harris devoted more than half her life to raising her son. She remembered the concept of having sex but it had been aeons since she’s actually been a participant - especially with a real flesh-and-blood partner. But it’s time to reclaim her life. Her son is a man now. And the rising star of the Jets rugby league team. Their future is brighter than ever and, for the first time, financially secure. But Laura is starting to think agreeing to have dinner with Trevor Hughes could be biting off more than she can chew. Not that she can’t see herself taking a nice big chunk from the absolutely gorgeous thirty-four-year-old sports commentator’s rump, he’s one prime piece of masculinity! She just isn’t sure how or when the whole sex thing will become an issue. She can’t even get past the what-to-wear step. Let alone the when-to-take-it-off stage…

Trevor Hughes usually avoids the woman with substance - he has enough of his own demons to deal without trying to care for anyone else. But there’s something about the upbeat, sexy, one-woman-dynamo Laura Harris. The woman is pure sunshine and happiness. And that’s surprising when you look at what life has handed her. Nothing seemed to dampen Laura’s spirits and she quickly becomes someone Trevor needs in his life…Until misunderstandings come between them. Can Trevor put things right?

Excerpt:

“Decisions, decisions,” he moaned.

“Mmm… Did you say something?” Laura hummed in his ear.

“Just deciding what I want to do to you first—whether to get naked with you, or just eat your pussy first. I can’t make up my mind. It all seems so good.”

“No, not cold—burning, melting for you. Definitely not cold, but I still want to feel your skin against mine. Flesh to flesh, no barrier between us.”

Trevor decided that Laura was right—no barriers between them sounded good—but he had to move her so he could achieve that goal. As he gently lifted her smaller frame from his lap, ready to place her next to him on the couch Laura began to struggle. Worried that he was hurting her, Trevor let her go, let her move herself, only to discover that she had a plan of her own. Laura slid between his thighs kneeling on the carpet. The grin she gave him sent lightning bolts of pleasure through his system. Trevor remembered that look—that wicked, wonderful look. And so did his cock.

“Here, let me help you undress. I promise I’ll be extra careful!” Laura giggled as she teased Trevor, purposely brushing her hand over the hardness in the front of his pants, then cupping him gently. “Hmmm, you feel kinda worked up again. Isn’t that how you described it last time? When you cautioned me on the zipper thing.”

She leant forward so as to reach the opening of his pants. With one hand, she carefully lowered the zipper completely—it had already been at half mast from when he had unbuttoned earlier to give himself more room, but now he was completely open. Laura grasped the waistband of Trevor’s pants.

“Lift.”

As he did, she pulled them down past his hips, repeating the motion with his boxers. Once freed, Trevor’s shaft stood tall, rigid. As if it were beckoning her, she could not refuse its call. She ran her tongue around the circumference of his erect penis, the mushroom-like head, the joining of his skin. She laved and licked, explored every bulbous vein, every satiny bit of skin that covered his impressive form. Laura loved the taste of him, the slightly salty, musky maleness. She lapped at the pre-cum that formed at the eye before swallowing his erection down into her throat, loving the moans and grunts Trevor was making.

When he took hold of the sides of her head and drew her away, she didn’t fight him. It was time he buried that hard cock—that part of him that differentiated his maleness from her femininity—inside her dripping wet and throbbing pussy, where it belonged. “I need you, Laura, need to bury myself in you, want to come inside you.”

“I need that too, Trevor.”

Laura lay back on the carpet and spread her legs for him in an invitation for him to take her. She watched as he extracted a condom from the wallet he took from his now discarded pants’ pocket. He rolled the latex on and her mouth watered. Her folds wept with cream as the moment drew close—the moment she’d thought she would never feel again, that fullness she had craved for weeks and had been unable to attain at her own hands.

Friday, February 22, 2013

I'm not a big Parmesan fan but I do like eggplant and mozzarella! I really like the pairing on a grill--delicious! But this recipe is pretty standard and simple enough to do when you need a meal and don't want to spend all day making one.

Ingredients:

3 eggplant, peeled and thinly sliced

2 eggs, beaten

4 cups Italian seasoned bread crumbs

6 cups spaghetti sauce, divided

1 (16 ounce) package mozzarella cheese

, shredded and divided

1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided

1/2 teaspoon dried basil

Directions:

1.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).

2.

Dip eggplant slices
in egg, then in bread crumbs. Place in a single layer on a baking
sheet. Bake in preheated oven for 5 minutes on each side.

3.

In a 9x13 inch
baking dish spread spaghetti sauce to cover the bottom. Place a layer
of eggplant slices in the sauce. Sprinkle with mozzarella and Parmesan
cheeses. Repeat with remaining ingredients, ending with the cheeses.
Sprinkle basil on top.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

I've talked about Nellie Bly before, and her investigative journalism, her pioneering spirit, and her take-that attitude to the view of women in society. There's a new book out about her Round the World Travels and I can't wait to read it!

On November 14, 1889, Nellie Bly, the crusading young female reporter for Joseph Pulitzer’s World
newspaper, left New York City by steamship on a quest to break the
record for the fastest trip around the world. Also departing from New
York that day—and heading in the opposite direction by train—was a young
journalist from The Cosmopolitan magazine, Elizabeth Bisland.
Each woman was determined to outdo Jules Verne’s fictional hero Phileas
Fogg and circle the globe in less than eighty days. The dramatic race
that ensued would span twenty-eight thousand miles, captivate the
nation, and change both competitors’ lives forever.

The two women were a study in contrasts. Nellie Bly was a scrappy,
hard-driving, ambitious reporter from Pennsylvania coal country who
sought out the most sensational news stories, often going undercover to
expose social injustice. Genteel and elegant, Elizabeth Bisland had been
born into an aristocratic Southern family, preferred novels and poetry
to newspapers, and was widely referred to as the most beautiful woman in
metropolitan journalism. Both women, though, were talented writers who
had carved out successful careers in the hypercompetitive,
male-dominated world of big-city newspapers. Eighty Days brings
these trailblazing women to life as they race against time and each
other, unaided and alone, ever aware that the slightest delay could mean
the difference between victory and defeat.

A vivid real-life re-creation of the race and its aftermath, from its frenzied start to the nail-biting dash at its finish, Eighty Days
is history with the heart of a great adventure novel. Here’s the
journey that takes us behind the walls of Jules Verne’s Amiens estate,
into the back alleys of Hong Kong, onto the grounds of a Ceylon tea
plantation, through storm-tossed ocean crossings and mountains blocked
by snowdrifts twenty feet deep, and to many more unexpected and exotic
locales from London to Yokohama. Along the way, we are treated to
fascinating glimpses of everyday life in the late nineteenth century—an
era of unprecedented technological advances, newly remade in the image
of the steamship, the railroad, and the telegraph. For Nellie Bly and
Elizabeth Bisland—two women ahead of their time in every sense of the
word—were not only racing around the world. They were also racing
through the very heart of the Victorian age.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

She came to the Parisian Fair for adventure...what she found far exceeded her every expectation.

Victoria Scott defied her absentee father and went to the Parisian World's Fair alone. Daring and adventurous, she believed herself able to conquer any obstacle, after all she was a woman of the world. And then she made a rather foolish wager that she could find a lover--or two. Uncertain why she made that wager, and unsure how go about it, Victoria finds herself attracted to two handsome men.

Edmund Garrison is in Paris with his employer, Warren, Lord Sherborn, to see the engineering pavilions at the world's fair. When beautiful Victoria stumbles across their path, he's attracted and intrigued. When she agrees to accompany them back to Warren's townhouse, he's shocked--and aroused. He hadn't expected his time in Paris to be quite so enlightening, but the education he receives is what he's always wanted.

Warren Blackthrope, Lord Sherborn, has had many lovers, but it's his young protege, Edmund, who attracts him the most. He wants Edmund to learn all the pleasures of being a submissive and plans to enjoy every moment of those lessons. It's Victoria, however, who shakes Warren from his path. She's feisty, willing, and eager for each part of their menage. But is it enough to steer the foreboding Earl from his once-chosen path?

Sex and adventure abound, and Victoria is caught up in the bliss she, Edmund, and Warren create. She wants more, craves it, but is terrified of the consequences. Scandal is around every corner; when she meets one head on will she flee? Or will she realize the power of her ménage is stronger than merely sex?

This 52,000 word story is an MMF ménage where all characters are sexually involved in a relationship. Victoria thought she knew it all, but what she discovered eclipsed all her expectations. She wanted, she craved, but in the end, was it enough?

Monday, February 18, 2013

This weekend I watched ParaNorman and the most I have to say about it is eh. It was only OK. So many themes, none of which were fleshed out well enough to make a whole. And the whole curse thing only made marginal sense, and then only about half-way through the finale.

Truthfully I found it a lot preachier than I expected. In the heavy-handed, bang me over the head way. There were a couple funny one-liners but they never went anywhere. And the family dynamics were confusing. Whose mother was grandmom? And where did the uncle fit in to that family tree?

Overall, an average 3 star movie. Good for a night's entertainment but only when nothing else is on.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Raphyel
Montez Jordan grew up in a household sensitive to the creative arts. As
a child, his hobbies were drawing favorite cartoon and video game
characters while making illustrated stories. This passion for art never
left and followed him all the way up to his high school and college
years.

It
wasn’t until college when he underwent a personal “renaissance” of
sorts that Jordan took his interest in writing to another level. When he
was 19, he started writing a novel for fun, taking inspiration from the
constant exposure of different ideas and cultures that college showed
him while staying true to the values he grew up to embrace. However,
when the “signs of the times” influenced the story and the characters to
spawn into universes of their own, he figured he might possibly be on
to something.

As
he studied graphic design at Armstrong Atlantic State University in
Savannah, Georgia, Jordan also used his
electives to study sciences like Astronomy, Psychology, and Biology in
order enhance the reading experience in his story. He eventually made it
a goal to have the story published after he graduated, and dubbed the
goal “Operation Prosia,” the very same project that would develop into
his first published book, “Prossia.”

Even
though his novel is not necessarily a religious book, Jordan utilizes
his Christian faith by urging people to encourage, not condemn, in his
story. Best known for ending his PSFC newsletters with “Unity Within
Diversity,” he hopes “Prossia’s” success will inspire people to consider
and support the positive outlook in the difference human kind can
share, whether it be race, religion, or any other
cultural difference.

You know what? The real world's boring. I mean, seriously.
Look outside. Did you just see a dragon or UFO fly by? No? Then I rest my case.
And if you said yes. . . maybe it's time to talk to a professional

One of the reasons why we're seeing sci-fi and fantasy films
strike it big in the box office is because people love being able to get lost
in a world beyond imagination. It's our natural human nature. Classical stories
like Homer's epic poem, "Iliad," centuries beyond centuries old, is a
strong evident to that statement.

Human beings love to imagine the what-if scenario. What if
there was magic? What if I had superpowers? What if aliens actually did exist?
With those small sentences, with those few words, galactic governments have
been put on the brink of peril, wars between elves and goblins have been raged,
adventures that have challenged the test of time have been born, and that was exactly
how "Prossia" was created.

After having a basis for the story in mind, I asked myself,
"What if I wrote a story about aliens?" Sure, that's simple enough,
but that thought would branch off into more avenues and streams.

·What if they lived on a single planet?

·What if it was an entire solar system?

·What if the aliens were spread across an entire
galaxy?

·What if there weren't any even humans around,
like so many other stories?

Did you see what happened? Did you see that
snowball-turned-avalanche coming down the mountain?

When I asked myself if my
story was going to be about aliens, I was already challenging myself to explain
why these people's world was the way it was, without even realizing it.

And granted, universes aren't made over night, so creating
the Prossia Universe has been a very long process. The other challenge of the
universe comes from the fact that this is indeed a science fiction story.

Meaning, I can't just say something is the way it is by magic. This genre
requires a little fact, as much as feasible. So, when I made my main character,
Aly, come from people who had infrared vision, had super reflexes and agility,
and could form energy out of their hands, I actually had to explain that Aly
has infrared vision because it helps her see approaching threats. I have a
separate file listing the anatomy of my aliens, from what type of cartilage and
muscle tissue would be possible for Goolians to move the way they do, to the
extrasensory perceptions they have when it comes to their ability of using
fusion to create a ball of plasma.

And that only covers one of the current nine races! What
about the other aliens and their designs? I wanted them to look a certain way,
but there had to be a reason why. Humans and other animals look the way they
look due to Earth's size, its closeness to the sun, the ecosystems it has, and tons,
I MEAN TONS, of other factors. So, it's only natural other life-forms would
evolve to fit their environments as well. That is, after all, one of the key
functions of life. Seriously, look at how diverse the biology on our very own
little rock is.

So, more questions:

If we must adapt to
our surroundings, what if I make aliens that can adapt to their surroundings
through an advanced acclimation process? If that were the case, wouldn't that
mean what took us millions of years to do capable of being done much sooner?
And how much sooner am I talking? Am I still talking millions of years, or just
a few thousand?

And still, the questions continue, and guess what else, so
does the world I find myself lost in. Maybe some people would think such world
building is just wayyyy too much trouble. I, on the other hand, think it's
totally awesome. Being an artist and a writer, I like being able to create, so
what's cooler than creating an entire galaxy!?

To think that I studied Civilization, Psychology, Ethics and
Values, Biology and Ecology just so I could have some ideas for Prossia's
Universe. Now, I'm not saying that's what all writers should do in order to
build their worlds. I was just fortunate enough to be in my college years while
I was writing "Prossia," and I needed to fill in some class
electives. :P To me, researching is good, and the deeper I go into a universe,
the better. Still, in the end, none of this could've happened if I asked the
one thing that humans love to ask.

"What if--" . Why don't you ask
the same question? Who knows what wonders you'll bring.

Aly came to an
hour later. She was still left in the mud along with a good number of
twenty-five others. As wide awake as she was, she didn’t bother getting up. Her
pride and will were too severely damaged to do so.

Small drips of
water started to splatter on her face, and a great streak of light flew from
above. Her eyes winced as a great boom came seconds later. This event never
happened on Gooliun. Its atmosphere was cloaked with its own moisture, and the
dew from the ground came from the earth itself. She was taught about these
natural activities on other planets in her earlier classes back in home. She
had pictured the sight of water actually falling from the sky in her dreams,
but it was a reality on this strange far off world.

All the same,
the Young One remained motionless as the falling water turned harder. Before
she knew it, she was in the middle of a downpour. The sound of it was so
peaceful, but the feeling it gave made her heavy. She thought about how far
away she was from home again, and just how much she wanted to go back. She
heard the prancing of footsteps arriving moments later. She could tell it was
Gruago by the lightness in them. How humiliating it would be to have him see
her in such a demeaning state. She still refused to move, however.

The blue-eyed
Ufrian wore a simple Ufrian robe with a hooded cloak to cover his head as he
checked body and body for his young Goolian friend. He eventually saw the back
of a blue-tentacle female lying motionless in the mud. He approached the
motionless body figuring he’d have to shake it awake, but it gave a sigh before
he could kneel down and shake her shoulder. Gruago figured he’d cross his arms
instead so he wouldn’t agitate the ticking time bomb.

“So there you
are,” he proclaimed. “Looks like you had a blast today, huh?”

He tried to
chuckle, but Aly’s silence made Gruago clear his throat instead. A good moment
of silence passed by until the lad finally gave a deep sigh.

The Goolian
didn’t bother moving, but Gruago continued on with his point.

“You’re not the
only one who got their face kicked into the mud. Now stop beating yourself up,
and pipe up. It’s almost evening.”

Aly finally
acknowledged the Ufrian’s presence by twitching an ear towards his direction.
All the same, she didn’t bother moving anything else.

“Look up at the
sky, Gruago,” she said.

The Goolian’s
voice carried a dull tone to it, but the Ufrian answered the Young One’s
request. Water smacked him in the face relentlessly.

“Um, yeah,”
Gruago said while trying to wipe his face. “Care to tell me what I’m looking
for?”

Aly rolled onto
her back so she could stare into the dense gray clouds. The sky lit up
momentarily as another hideous streak of light spouted out. She waited for the
boom to go by before she explained herself.

“This is what
you call ‘rain’, isn’t it?” she politely asked. “And those violent white
streaks are built up amounts of electricity called lightning, right?”

Saturday, February 16, 2013

If his beauty was of the Devil, and this
an enchantment, she did not care. . .

Lord Karolan Rakka is no stranger to
death: sensual, mysterious and endowed with an arcane knowledge of alchemy, he
has achieved immortality. Deeply lonely and tormented by the Fetch - the dark
and wanton spirit who feasts on his fleshly desires - Karolan endeavours to
resist the brief solace of sexual pleasure . . .

Instead he longs for a kindred
soul. And when he finds her in the ravishing form of Garnetta - a young woman,
both innocent and lost - Karolan wastes no time in making her his own. But when
Garnetta discovers the shocking truth about their overwhelming bond of desire,
she flees Lord Rakka - and finds herself in mortal peril. Only Karolan can save
her. Will he make a leap of faith for the woman he has grown to love . . .
before time runs out? The Flesh Endures is a breathless tale of faith and love,
and the bonds of desire from which there is no escape.

It was gloomy
inside the low room, the air thick with the oily smoke from rush tapers. The
lavender and sweet woodruff that strewed the beaten earth floor had long since
wilted and failed to mask the smells of stale sweat and unwashed clothes.

At the back of
the room, in an area of deepest shadow, Lord Karolan Rakka lay on a pile of
tawdry cushions. He watched his companion caressing the two young women, his
perceptions blurred by the poppy drug coursing through his veins. The three
naked bodies were shiny with sweat and the smells of sex and exertion clotted his
nostrils. He wondered, for a moment, why he had stayed. There had been no
reason to linger after Jack had given him the things he required, but he had
felt a desire for human company. And so he had poured a measure of the opiate
into a tankard of ale and settled back to watch Jack indulge his sexual
appetites.

For a while the
two women worked on his companion, taking it in turns to kiss Jack's mouth and
caress his body. Then they put on a show for the two men, moaning loudly as
they kissed each other, rubbing their breasts together until the nipples stood
out like ripe cherries.

Inflamed by the
display, Jack reached for Isabeau, preferring her rich womanly curves to
Adeliz's more girlish form.

Cleo Cordell is
the author of nine erotic novels, a number of short stories and a forthcoming
anthology. The bestselling Captive Flesh, published in 1993, was
followed by Senses Bejewelled and Velvet Claws, and Cleo was
established as 'the new queen of suburban erotica' in Today and 'queen
of the undieworld' in the Woman's Journal. Her subsequent titles, Juliet
Rising, Path of the Tiger, Crimson Buccaneer and Opal Darkness, confirmed
her position as first lady of historical-fantasy erotica.

Writing as Susan
Swann, Cleo's alter ego explored contemporary erotica in The Discipline of
Pearls and The Ritual of Pearls.

Cleo began
working for Northamptonshire Libraries at the age of sixteen. This gave her
ample opportunity to explore the world of dark fantasy fiction, her first love.
When not reading or researching, she enjoys the cinema, her cats, wildlife and
cooking gourmet vegetarian food. At present she is working on the sequel to The
Flesh Endures, continuing the fortunes of the enigmatic alchemist Lord
Karolan Rakka.

About Me

Kristabel Reed lives on the East Coast and loves to explore the steamier side of historical romance. "There are so many sexy situations that didn't just pop up in the 21st century and my goal is to burst the myth of the prim and proper debutante."
She loves romances but historical ménages particularly which add an element of danger and discovery not seen in contemporaries. Historically speaking, unusual romantic connections put lives on the line-people were ostracized and some even put to the death.
She loves reading, watching old movies, and anything Cary Grant. And is always interested in talking about erotic romance, so drop her a line: kristabelreed@yahoo.com; or Tweet her @kristabelreed; find her blog: kristabelreed.blogspot.com